Using the black carved staff to guide her steps, Quinn picks her way through the darkened cemetery. The tombstones stand out like decaying teeth in the uneven ground, the dead trees clutching at her like dying hands reaching for a saviour. The sun setting in the west lights the town below her on fire, a deep scarlet glow settling over the houses and streets of her old home. As much as the sun lights up the town, the warm rays seem to shy away from the cemetery, shadows creeping unnaturally from behind every rock and tree.
The invisible spirit of her long-dead mother floats silently in front of Quinn, sending her glimpses of her surroundings through mental images. Moira’s uneasiness about being here evident, Quinn manages not to let her hands shake too much.
A thousand dead voices whisper in her mind, trying to distract and confuse her. A single, terrifying theme pulses through the discord.
As you are, we once were… as we are, soon you will be… We are the dead, we know your deeds.
The feeling of being watched comes over her, a thousand pairs of eyes watching her every step. A gust of wind kicks up from behind her, whipping her cloak around her frame. Misery pauses, the air caressing her pale skin, bringing whispered moans of past grievances to her ears.
“What…?”
The spirits in this place are restless… We must hurry my little Misery, before it gets full dark. Her mothers normally uncaring voice quivers, her fear chilling Quinn’s spirit.
To the left, my Misery. A bit further.
Quinn murmurs tentatively, “Have you been here the whole time, Mother? Watching us?”
The spirit refuses to answer, and Misery shyly refrains from asking more questions.
They make their way in silence for what, to Quinn, feels like hours, but is truly only a few minutes. Moira leads her daughter to a section where the ground is more even and Quinn can tell this is where the most recent burials have taken place.
Moira stops and motions for Quinn to come nearer. Trembling, Quinn kneels beside her mother and places her hands on the cool granite of her fathers headstone. The voices in the wind swell and moan as she touches it. Her fingers find rough scratches in the rock, and she traces the grooves with shaking fingertips, the letters imprinting themselves in her mind.
Here lies Brian, beloved father.
The words sear into her brain, all hope of her father being alive cruelly snatched away.
Full dark comes soon my Misery... We must go. Her mothers voice barely hides the horror of what comes in the night.
Quinns hands drop to her lap and she lowers her head, the words of the wind chanting through her mind again and again.
As you are, we once were... as we are, soon you will be... You left your father to die, Misery... It is all your fault, girl... As we are, soon you will be... soon... soon...
The last rays of the setting sun flash bright for a moment, then vanish, and a triumphant cry threads its way through the moaning of the wind.
She is ours!